A
few years ago I spent a great weekend in Provincetown painting with
friends. It was a cool couple of days, definitely pre-season, but so
nice to be out walking the lovely streets with all their activity.
The January theme for my Girls Just Wanna Paint group was "referencing the golden section". Here's a good article about the proportions and how the ratio is incorporated into design.
I
have a few changes to make to this painting, but it captures the feel
of the day, and uses the golden ratio as a basis for the design.
Below are a couple of in process photos, and a pen and ink drawing.
"Waiting for the Weekend" is my take on the mudroom, or storage room in the lovely Maine house I rent with artist friends for a week in June. I'll be going for my third consecutive year in a matter of weeks. It's the room I associate with all summer houses. You can see the flag, and life jackets, and citronella candles, and lighter fluid. Without seeing, you know there are Zebco fishing rods, and a wooden croquet set (perhaps missing one ball), and drop lines and kite string, and oars, and plastic buckets, shovels, and sand toys, and some flippers, and perhaps a deflated rubber float or two, and a kickboard, and some oarlocks. I spent summers in a house with all of these things and more, and I have a story associated with each which this room brought to mind, though it has no physical connection to the paraphernalia of my youth.
I've been writing lately about threads, and connections. Here they are again.
I always travel with several art books to read and study. Each trip, the books vary. On this trip, I brought Alfred Chadbourn's "Painting With a Fresh Eye", to which I attribute the ultramarine block-in. I "drew" the basic shapes, and washed in the shadows, moving a few things around until I was satisfied. My intention is usually to move around the painting, bringing the level of resolution up gradually. However, I always fight the lure of some component that is enthralling. Looking at these iterative photos, the life jackets were the draw.
"Waiting for the Weekend" - a roomful of kinetic energy listening for the crunch of gravel under the station wagon's tires, the tumbling forth of scrambling young feet, slamming screen doors and days of sun and fun ahead. Looking forward to June.
"Waiting for the Weekend" is my take on the mudroom, or storage room in the lovely Maine house I rent with artist friends for a week in June. I'll be going for my third consecutive year in a matter of weeks. It's the room I associate with all summer houses. You can see the flag, and life jackets, and citronella candles, and lighter fluid. Without seeing, you know there are Zebco fishing rods, and a wooden croquet set (perhaps missing one ball), and drop lines and kite string, and oars, and plastic buckets, shovels, and sand toys, and some flippers, and perhaps a deflated rubber float or two, and a kickboard, and some oarlocks. I spent summers in a house with all of these things and more, and I have a story associated with each which this room brought to mind, though it has no physical connection to the paraphernalia of my youth.
